


The day won't unwind us

by wearethewitches



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Bilingual Character(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death In Dream, Crystals, Dadmiral Christopher Pike, Dream Sex, F/M, Future Fic, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, One Big Happy Family, Sex, Time Shenanigans, Timeline Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 21:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18820750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: Michael and Chris are stuck in a dream of a potential future - and they only have three days to wake up, before they die in the physical world. But their life in the dream is good and something neither realised they had wanted, before.Do they evenwantto wake up?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _How 'bout tonight we just go crazy_  
>  Shoot out the lights then who knows maybe  
> We'll dance in the dark and won't come apart 'til mornin'  
> Sneaks in to find us then we'll start over  
> The day won't unwind us, we'll just get closer  
> I know you don't know me but I got this feelin'
> 
>  
> 
>  _\- Happens All the Time,_ Jon Pardi
> 
> (seriously, this song fits them so well)

“ _Are we sure it’s abandoned?_ ”

On the bridge of the U.S.S. _Discovery,_ far up above the yellow planet below where his away team are investigating, Chris Pike leans forwards in the Chair. The feed from Burnham’s camera is shaky as she climbs the rocky terrain, crystals glinting in the sunlight.

“What reason do you have to believe it may not be, Commander?” he asks her, glancing at Saru, who only shakes his head, nonplussed.

“ _The surrounding area is organised, sir and there’s a lack of chaos that I find…unsettling,_ ” she says, pausing to indicate with her hand a geometric design to the hill. “ _The crystals have been cut away, in certain places. Pruned, almost. We would have to analyse one of the crystals in its natural habitat to ascertain its rate of growth, but either way, I do not think we’re alone here._ ”

“Stay on guard,” Chris orders her, his gut telling him to be wary. A worry surfaces then, on behalf of his team – but more for Commander Burnham, which is unfair to the two security officers accompanying her. “The source of the phenomenon is less than a hundred feet away.”

“ _Aye, sir._ ”

Burnham continues onwards, taking care not to touch any of the crystalline shapes. Chris, as he watches her walk further, slowly realises that Burnham is right – the hill has been organised methodically and tended to. As the number of lifeforms on the planet had been checked out as zero, it makes Chris nervous to see what might have caused the energy-wave that knocked out the power of three outposts and half a dozen ships in the surrounding area.

“Saru, why was this planet quarantined, again?”

“That data is unavailable, Captain,” Saru replies. “However, I do find it intriguing that the date of quarantine coincides with the implementation of a previous peace treaty with the Klingons nearly a century ago.”

“And that isn’t worrying at all,” Chris mutters, before saying to Burnham, “Commander, be aware that the planet may have been quarantined by request of the Klingon Empire.”

“ _Copy, Captain. Coming up to the source of the phenomenon now._ ”

Burnham and the others on the away team approach a wall, only for a set of stairs to become visible. Burnham pauses and one of the redshirts steps forwards, phaser in hand as they step downwards.

“ _Clear!_ ” they shout, when they reach the bottom. Burnham follows, the second redshirt behind her keeping an eye on the exit. Chris leans further forwards in the Chair as they enter some kind of cavern, lit from the centre by a glowing pile of crystals in a wide, shallow basin raised off the ground by nothing.

Burnham checks the pile with her tricorder. Saru nods upon receiving her readings. “It is the source, sir. The crystals are emitting a faint signal comparable with the energy-wave.”

“Good job, Commander,” Chris nods, before speaking to the away team. “The crystals have been confirmed as the source of the phenomenon.”

“ _I disagree, sir,_ ” Burnham shakes her head. “ _These crystals haven’t the power-source required to make such an emission._ ”

“But they match the signal – how?”

“ _You said the Klingons may have requested the quarantine,_ ” Burnham starts, wary. “ _What if this is another Boreth, sir?_ ”

Chris sits up.

“Commander Burnham, do you suspect time crystals to be present here?”

“ _As I am currently having some kind of vision,_ ” Burnham states, her vitals going mad, along with the two security officers’, “ _I suspect so._ ”

“Can we beam them out of there?” Chris questions his crew quickly.

“No, Captain – we can’t triangulate their positions with the crystals’ interference,” Rhys states.

“Dammit,” Chris mutters, watching as Burnham drops to her knees, tricorder falling as she grasp the edge of the wide bowl. “Commander, don’t touch the crystals. Whatever you are seeing right now, in the physical world you are an inch off touching one.”

“ _No- no, no_ …” Burnham whispers and its clear she’s trapped in whatever she’s seeing. Chris looks to the security officers’ vitals and feeds in the corner, laid on top of Burnham’s, who takes up the main screen. Lieutenant Barns lurches forwards, arms sinking into the pile all the way up to his shoulders.

“Barns! It’s not real!” Chris snaps, watching in horror as the feed starts to fizzle out, the crystals glowing ominously in a rainbow of colours. Then, the colours change, turning a singular, glowing green that haunts Chris’s nightmares. Barns begins to scream and then his vitals disappear entirely, the feed going offline.

From Burnham’s feed – from the second redshirt’s feed – Chris and the bridge can see Barns’ EV suit fall to the ground, completely empty.

“Abort mission!” Chris starts, “Rhys, find a way to beam them out of there!”

“I’m trying, Captain!”

“Sir,” Saru attracts his attention, “we already have the exact location of the phenomenon. If we manually adjust the transporter beam to where we can see Commander Burnham and the second lieutenant from their feeds, we may be able to get them out.”

“That dangerous and against regs – we might only beam up parts of them,” Chris denies, heart skipping a beat.

“ _Captain!_ ” Burnham exclaims, regaining his attention. She pulls back from the crystals sharply, stumbling over to Lieutenant Ender, who is staring into space with dead eyes. “ _I know what’s going to happen. We need to leave, sir, right now._ ”

“The crystals are interfering with the transporter tech, Commander – you need to get out of range.”

“ _You don’t understand, sir, there’s no time. Discovery needs to get out of range. The phenomenon was an echo from the future. The real thing is much worse than the original burst._ ”

“I’m not leaving you both behind – we’ve already lost Barns.”

“ _Barns was the catalyst, sir. All the energy from his timeline has been taken in as power for the device._ ”

“And is there any way we can drain that power?”

“ _If we used the crystals for something else, maybe,_ ” Burnham states, dragging Ender to her feet and pulling her back towards the stairs. “ _But I don’t know what, sir. We have minutes. You have to go, sir._ ”

“If we have to go, then why are you even attempting to leave?” Chris asks, pointing out the obvious.

“ _I saw what happens if we stay_ ,” Burnham says, voice low and deadly. “ _We’re just fuel for the machine, sir. It’s ancient Klingon technology – built as a defence against Federation ships, if they ever attempted to attack the planet._ ”

“Did your vision show you this?”

“ _Yes._ ”

Chris thinks of the time crystal he’s handled in the past – how the price of taking it was seeing his future, one supposedly set in stone. He remembers when Gabrielle Burnham came back to them during the battle against Control – she’d helped them transfer the sphere data into the new timesuit, while her own disappeared back to Terralysium in the future. It had been a final goodbye, for Michael and her mother, but Gabrielle had also told him that he should never return to the _Enterprise,_ if he wished to die on his own two feet.

_The future can be changed, but only if the differences are large enough for an alternate outcome._

“We’re going to change it. You said it’s ancient Klingon tech – then we take the tech apart. Separate the power from the machine.”

“ _I don’t believe that is a feasible solution, sir._ ”

“And letting it deactivate a series of Starfleet and civilian bases and vessels is acceptable? No, Burnham. Tell me how that device works.”

The Commander hesitates for barely a second, before she lowers the still out-of-it Ender to the ground. She approaches the bowl, crouching down to wipe the floor of dust, revealing a series of metallic lines that are lit with a superficial light.

“ _The gardens outside. They’re a living network, I believe. I saw them light up like a circuit when the device was activated, in the past. Klingons sacrificed their lives and the energy from the rest of their non-existent timelines to power the time crystals, which in turn activate the others. It’s built up, then released in a wave. If we disconnected the crystals from the planet, then the wave wouldn’t be so large._ ”

“The difference?”

“ _The quadrant, versus from three square miles, up to the size of a planet._ ”

Chris’s mind works quickly. His heart bursts with guilt. Chris looks to Rhys. “The entire room. Can we transport the contents of the room, crystals and all, onto _Discovery?_ ”

Rhys freezes, paralysed as he stares at his screen. After a long moment, he slowly nods. “Yes. Yes – it’s the crystals I was trying to avoid, but if we’re transporting the materials that aren’t stuck down…” He works and Chris feels pride grow in his chest, before Rhys even finishes coding for the transporter.

“Sir,” Saru starts, “You can’t mean to bring the device on _board_.”

“It’s the _Discovery_ or the Federation. If we can jump somewhere safe using the spore-drive before it blows, even better.” Chris taps his panel. “Chris to Engineering, get ready to jump us somewhere we can’t be caught off-guard for a week, but in easy reach of Starfleet.”

Stamets replies shortly, “ _On it, Captain. I’ll figure something out._ ”

“Rhys, get it done. Bryce, open a ship-wide channel.”

“Yes, sir.”

Chris breathes in deeply. “Crew of the _Discovery,_ it is my duty to inform you that we will be bringing hazardous materials onto the ship, ones that are poised to blow. We do not know the whole series of effects these materials will have on the ship or the crew, but if we don’t bring them aboard, the whole galaxy could be in danger. It is a sacrifice we must make. Please prepare for an immediate de-powering of the ship and all systems, before the emergency generator kicks in. Pike out.”

The channel clicks off and Burnham’s feed turns off as she, the lieutenant and the crystals are all transported aboard the U.S.S. _Discovery._


	2. Chapter 2

She awakens with a start, legs getting caught in her covers as a small, giggling person jumps on the bed beside her.

“Mama, wake up! It’s my birthday! Presents, now? Presents?”

Michael looks to the young boy beside her, arms automatically reaching out to pull him into her lap. It only registers that something is wrong when she catches sight of a body beside her, their face hidden in their- _his_ pillow.

“Too early, _kan-bu_ ,” he groans, before stiffening. Michael looks at the ‘kan-bu’ on her lap, somewhat overwhelmed by the brilliant grin on his face. There are dimples on his dark face, bright blue eyes familiar and making her sense of dread rise.

“...Phillip?” she addresses tentatively, the name coming to mind. Her brain is confused – two sets of memories overlapping as she tightens her grip, pressing a kiss to his nose, following a set of instincts she hadn’t owned yesterday. Phillip grasps at her hair – which is longer than she’s ever had it, longer than even when she was a child, thickly plaited over one shoulder.

“What is going on?” she hears a whisper. Her eyes pass from Phillip – who shares over twelve distinct facial features with her, who has been called _baby_ in Vulcan – to her bedpartner: Captain Pike. They stare at each other and belatedly, Michael passes the wiggling Phillip over to him. Chris shifts, grabbing him carefully, like he doesn’t know what he’s handling.

“Captain,” she says.

“Commander,” he murmurs in reply, sitting up and setting panicked eyes on Phillip. “Morning, buddy.”

“It’s my birthday,” Phillip repeats and one part of Michael thinks, _I am so tired of hearing that phrase_ , knowing he’s been saying it over and over for a month, now. But another part of her is fascinated, staring at his wild head of hair and thinking, _he looks like the captain._

“Is it just me, or is this out of place for you, as well?” Chris asks, clearly terrified.

Michael nods sharply, grabbing the covers as a breeze reveals she’s wearing less than she would have liked. Heart racing, she presses them to her bare chest, seeing Chris turn red and look away from her, only to freeze. The arm that isn’t wrapped around Phillip raises the nearby sheets, looking under them. Her captain pales and he looks to Michael in panic.

“Commander- Michael-”

There’s a stickiness between her thighs, she realises. Her grip on the blankets tightens and the part of her that recognises Phillip thinks, _why wouldn’t there be, after last night?_

“We’re in the wrong time,” Michael says thickly. “There has to be an explanation.”

“It could be a hallucination,” Chris offers and Michael thinks, _when did he become ‘Chris’?_

“Shared? It’s unlikely,” Michael says, uncertain. Chris is still pale, though and he looks about ten seconds away from a full-on panic attack. “Captain, it’s alright.”

“It’s not. We’re in bed together, Michael, we have a _child-_ ” his voice strangles around the word and said child whines, batting at his bare chest.

“Presents!” hollers Phillip, impatient. Michael sharpens her glare.

“Phillip Burnham-Pike, do not hit your father.”

Chris takes Phillip’s tiny fists, frowning deeply. “You won’t get your presents at all if you don’t behave, son.”

“Presents,” Phillip’s face screws up and he burrows his sniffling face in Chris’s chest, Michael glancing around the room. They’re in the captain’s quarters, but there’s an extra door installed that Michael recognises as the door to Phillip’s room and clothes are strewn across the floor, from their haste the night before. But Chris isn’t the captain – he’s an admiral, living on-board the _Discovery_ with his wife and son acting as a diplomat for First Contacts. Living in the captain’s quarters is a gift from Saru, the real captain of the U.S.S. _Discovery._ His wildlife from Kaminar is too delicate to move, apparently.

 _Christopher and I got married on Earth,_ Michael thinks, remembering nine years of a life she hasn’t lived. _Two years after my mother took the sphere data, a year and a half after visiting the quarantined planet._ The planet had been empty of any device, with no crystals or any sign of where the phenomenon originated from in sight. Phillip had been planned – it’s his third birthday, today.

“This isn’t real,” she says out loud, hypothesising that the crystals they’d transported to _Discovery_ had discharged somehow. Slipping out of bed, she grabs the nearest item of clothing she sees – a black undershirt that is too big and clearly belongs to Chris – and thinks, _if this were real, I’d feel a lot more conflicted about calling this a dream._

“How do we get back?” Chris asks, hand rubbing circles on Phillip’s back, calming him like he did when Phillip was a baby. Michael hauls the undershirt on, regardless of its owner and forms a query.

“Computer, is Commander Stamets on board?”

“ _Affirmative, Commander Burnham._ ”

“Request audio-call.”

“ _Requesting._ ”

“Why are you contacting Stamets?” Chris asks her.

Michael glances over at him, catching how his eyes trail down her legs before being yanked back up to meet her gaze. “Commander Stamets has a unique relationship with time,” she says, before the computer announces a connection.

“ _Burnham, what did you do this time? I’ve got multiple timelines in my head!_ ”

“So do we,” Michael confirms, hearing Dr Culber in the background asking what’s going on. “Captain Pike and I woke up like this.”

“ _The crystals did something when you brought them on board. I can’t remember activating the spore drive, so it must have happened before that._ ”

“When are we, Paul?” she asks, making the decision to return to the bed as Phillip reaches for her. Kneeling on the mattress, Michael allows the boy to launch himself at her, his arms wrapping around her neck as he cries. _Tired baby,_ she thinks fondly.

“ _The more important question is how we wake up._ ”

“Wake?” Chris starts. “We’re dreaming?”

“ _Well, you’re the one who’s had experience with the time crystals before. You’ve touched one – so has Burnham and Reno, too._ ”

“Reno isn’t on this ship,” Michael says after consulting her memories.

“ _Oh…oh yeah, she left. Right. This is weird as hell. Do you really have a son in this timeline?_ ”

“ _Paul, of course they have a son,_ ” Culber says.

“ _Not in the real timeline and I’m seeing in triple digits right now, from the rest of the crew’s perspectives,_ ” he replies. “ _So?_ ”

“…yeah, we do,” Michael says, meeting eyes with Chris. There’s a moment of tension, before Chris glances backwards, off the bed. A moment later, he reaches down, the blankets slipping to reveal a toned back, his arms flexing. Michael imagines the sorts of things those arms could do, before forcing herself not to.

 _That’s inappropriate,_ she scolds herself, even as she adjusts her grip on Phillip. _He’s my captain._

Rank doesn’t seem to matter at the moment, however. Her brain is a thing of beauty and upon seeing Chris’s bare skin – so much more than is proper, for a captain and his subordinate – Michael recalls the many, _many_ times they’ve had sex in this timeline. On this bed, against a wall, on alien planets – sex pollen being a constant nuisance, everywhere – and even their childhood homes. Sarek’s tight expression the next morning is a source of giddy shame, years later.

“Perspectives?” Chris asks, knocking her out of her thoughts. Phillip quiets down as well, then.

“ _Everyone’s having dreams of the future, at various points in this timeline. They’re unaware of what’s going on. The me in those timelines are all having existential crisis’ and wondering why they’re not the ones in this version, talking to the only people who’re aware. It’s headache-inducing._ ”

“Can you tell whose perspective every dream is from?” Michael asks.

“ _No, which is the worst. I’ll go down to the lab and figure something out – join me when baby Pike is dealt with. I think Rhys is your favourite babysitter, at this point._ ”

“Alright. Good luck with that – we’ll be down soon,” Chris offers, before terminating the call. A small hand tugs at her borrowed shirt. Michael looks down to see Phillip pouting at her.

“Presents?” he asks, lip wobbling.

“Breakfast first,” Michael says, looking to Chris, who’s shuffling under the covers, trying to put on a set of trousers without her seeing. He’s not succeeding and every slip of skin is giving her pleasurable flashbacks. “Can you-”

“I’ll get him something,” Chris nods, before she looks away pointedly, giving him the chance to dress properly, standing by the bed. When she looks up again, he’s staring at her, shirtless and slack-jawed. Michael frowns.

“What?”

“I…” he starts, before abruptly walking over to the replicator, programming breakfast for them all. Michael eyes him carefully, wondering what he was thinking, before she gets up, depositing Phillip onto the bed. Making a dash for her drawers – somehow quite aware that Phillip is faster than light, at times, now he’s learned how to run – Michael manages to get into some underwear before he comes crashing into her legs, clinging to her like a limpet.

Feeling awkward – feeling embarrassed, because she’s in only a shirt and lingerie in front of her captain, despite the strange normality of the moment – she picks him up, putting him on her hip and making her way over to the table and chairs. Chris takes Phillip from her, acting like he would if they weren’t aware this was fake, that this isn’t real. He makes googly eyes, entertaining their son and making him laugh.

“I need a shower,” she tells him and Chris freezes, looking at her in that half-scared, half guilty way he had before.

“Michael-”

“Christopher,” she interrupts, slightly queasy, “just…stop. It’s alright.”

“It’s really not,” he says.

“We have to deal with it. We both remember a whole life like this. The other Michael and Christopher…they did that. A lot.”

“I know. Michael, I’m sorry – it’s not right. I know what you look like, under all that,” he says and it sends an unusual thrill through her. Michael has slept with people before – but never people she knew, who would stay the night and compliment her in the morning. Chris looks at her and he’s apologetic, guilty – but the other Michael is in her head and she _knows_ the expression behind all that, like he wants to kiss her and only work is keeping him in check.

“I don’t mind,” she says, words truthful and the source of his widening eyes as she steps away, heading to the bathroom for a sonic shower. Once she’s under the pressure of sonic waves, she realises her mistake in not gathering some fresh clothes and perhaps, even the unfairness of leaving her captain with the responsibility of taking care of a three-year old.

But when she re-enters the room, Michael is subjected to the familiar sight of Chris in front of Phillip in a high-chair, helping him guide a spoon to his mouth, encouraging him quietly and smiling widely when he manages it himself. It’s _incredibly_ domestic and Michael wonders why, in this timeline, she wanted it. Subjectively, it’s a bad idea – they still live on a starship, travelling the known and unknown universe and having a child at forty is asking to be put on a fertility treatment, not to mention the captain’s age.

“Look who’s here, it’s your _ko-mekh, kan-bu,_ ” Chris says to Phillip, flashing her a grin before it turns anxious again. Michael listens to Phillip giggle, before eating his breakfast.

“We lead domestic lives,” she says, coming up behind them and allowing herself to run a hand through Phillip’s wild hair. _It’s just a dream,_ she thinks, _can’t I have this?_ Michael has thought about having children before, but never in more than the abstract. Unwittingly, she leans down, pressing a kiss to his head upside down and then his little nose, identical grins on either of their faces as Phillip shrieks.

“ _Ko-mekh! Ko-mekh, ko-mekh-_ ”

“Good morning, birthday boy,” Michael whispers, before straightening to allow Chris to finish feeding him. It’s so, _so_ strange, feeling as if she’s slipping into a skin that’s not her own. Chris is watching her with bright eyes and something like awe, something like _love_. It sends her pulse racing and Michael _wants_ this life so fiercely, for a moment. She _wants_ a happy spouse and a gorgeous child, all without giving up her career and the spectacular, inspiring complexities of space.

She wonders if he wants it, too.


	3. Chapter 3

“I see Baby Pike is nowhere to be found.”

“His name is Phillip,” Michael says, approaching Stamets’ terminal. “What have you hypothesised?”

“Hypothesised? Much. I have to say, while it’s confusing, it’s much faster when you have multiple selves researching the same topic,” he says, grinning at her. “I’ve been running simulations across each of the dream worlds.”

“Are we not calling them timelines, anymore?”

“They’re potential futures, all designed to be shown in a way to incapacitate.” Paul says, eyes turning serious, “Don’t get comfortable, Michael. The device you brought on board was made to destroy its foes. Waking up from this will mean breaking the dream.”

 _What does ‘break’ mean?_ Michael thinks, looking to the simulation Stamets is running. She catalogues what he’s doing, even as she tries to divine the meaning of his statement. _How can you break a dream?_

“Can we interact with the physical plane?” Michael asks, “Is the ship functioning?”

“Unconfirmed,” Paul says, “but I’m getting flashes from real me. Emergency life-support is on. I think the ship was knocked out.”

“The life-support is only designed to last three days without assistance,” Michael thinks, blood running cold. “What are the chances another Federation vessel will come across us? Could they help?”

“We can ignore it, seeing as it’ll take them more than three days to reach us,” Paul winces. “And we’ve no way of knowing if they’d be affected by the crystals. If this is an aura of sorts or some kind of one-time effect, we don’t know.”

“How can we break a dream?”

“Presumably by breaking the reality the crystal has created,” Paul hypothesised, “It’s showing us a series of set events. Potentially, by diverging from each path all at once, we could shatter the dreams.”

“You can, you mean,” Michael points out.

“Well…yes, but!” Paul starts, tapping the air, “ _But_ , I have no way to know if it would even work. The crystals might just pull us into a new timeline.”

“We have three days,” Michael states, a shiver running down her spine. “Doing something drastic…like destroying the ship, would that do it?”

Stamets stares at her.

“Would it break the dream?” she insists on an answer, eyes burning. No-one else is in engineering – it’s just them.

“…yes. It would.” Paul says and his eyes glaze over as she watches, his focus turning inwards. _There are currently a hundred and forty-seven souls on Discovery_ , Michael thinks. _How many Paul Stamets’ are there right now, pushing for room and independence inside his head?_ “A timed explosion. We’ve already figured out when. It’s just a matter of implementing it without the crews intervening…do you have codes?”

His question comes out of the blue and for a moment, Michael has no idea what he means. Then-

“I’m Saru’s Number One in this timeline, of course I have codes – but the self-destruct needs us both,” she shakes her head. Stamets winces.

“I can hack them, I think. We can do it here, from engineering, together. I’m recruiting someone from each timeline to stand in your place.” He looks at her, eyes turning soft, not so distant anymore. “Michael. You and the captain-”

“It’s not our world,” Michael interrupts him in a whisper. Memories flash by her eyes. “Will we forget?”

“I don’t know,” Paul replies, equally as quietly. “You’re awake in here. In the real world…you might remember flashes. You might remember everything. You might remember nothing. But unless I figure it out early, then we’re here for little under three more days. No more than that.”

Her heart seizes. _Three days,_ she thinks, suddenly thinking of Christopher and Phillip – little, three year old Phillip who exists only in dreams, who doesn’t deserve to be blown up or suffocated in the black of space. She doesn’t realise she’s hyperventilating until Stamets grabs her arms, forcing her to look at him.

“Michael,” he says fiercely. “This is _not real._ You need to remember that. Your son isn’t real. Your marriage isn’t real. You haven’t done those things yet – and the longer we stay here, the more likely this future will never happen.”

“Why can’t we stay?” Michael asks him, petulant. She wants to stamp her foot like a child and wail at the unfairness of it all. “I’m at peace here – I remember it all, every last scrap. It’s been ten years since the war and I’m _not guilty._ I feel _light_ and _good_.”

“Oh Michael,” Paul says, full of sorrow, “You _are_ good. You don’t need to live in a dream to know that.”

Michael closes her stinging, wet eyes. _How is this fair?_

“Go spend time with your son,” Paul gently encourages her. “I can handle this. Take a holiday. I can do this without you.”

“But Chris-”

“Our _captain_ ,” he says, stressing _captain_ when it should be _admiral_ , here, “will be fine. You’re allowed a few days off for your kid’s birthday, Burnham. Neither of you are fit for duty in any case – acting like you know what the hell is going on will fail, in the end. Lock up in your rooms for the day. Talk it out.”

“He’s my husband.”

“I know. I remember your wedding. _Go_ ,” he pushes her towards the doors and Michael goes, walking on autopilot. That’s how she ends up in front of her old room, where she used to bunk with Tilly.

Knowing her friend is actually _in_ there makes her hesitate to leave. Carefully – slowly – she rings the comm, faintly aware that Tilly should be on shift at noon today. Eventually the door opens and Tilly – sleepy-eyed and smiling – greets her.

“Hey,” she drawls, “How’s the birthday boy? I hope my godson likes my present.” Tilly continues to smile, up until she sees Michael’s expression and immediately, her posture changes, all vestiges of sleep leaving her. “What happened?”

“This isn’t real,” Michael says out loud.

Tilly makes a face, “Okay. Explain it to me and maybe I can help.”

 _I need to give her more treats,_ Michael thinks, relief palpable as she staggers inside, Tilly locking the door behind her.

“You’re the best friend I’ve got,” she says. Tilly’s lip twitches.

“Well yeah, of course I am. So, what’s got you down in the dumps? Surprise pregnancy? Existential crisis?”

“Remember the quarantined planet? The one we went to nine years ago, that knocked out Starfleet outposts and ships?”

“…kind of? A dud, right?”

“No, not a dud,” Michael shakes her head. Tilly’s expression fills with alarm, but she’s so less _jumpy_ – so confident and so calm – and while it’s strange, it’s also familiar because of the timeline she remembers. _Tilly’s a commander, nowadays._ “Time crystals. Christopher and I handled them before and now, we’re both here in a vision, able to interact where the rest of the crew can’t.”

Tilly sits down beside her, brow furrowed. “This isn’t real – that’s what you said. How can I think, then? Are you sure it’s not a body-swap? We’ve had those before.”

“I remember everything that’s happened since then, Tilly,” Michael explains, “and so does Chris. Paul is the one having an existential crisis. He’s got nearly a hundred and fifty versions of himself in his brain, right now, one for every crewmember.”

“ _Ohhh,_ ” Tilly breathes. “Okay, now I believe you.”

“You didn’t before?”

Tilly smiles apologetically, “Weirder things have happened.”

Michael thoughtfully recalls some missions from the future-past, nodding in agreement. “Definitely. This is normal, in comparison to the Detru Incident.”

Tilly giggles, nodding in agreement. A comfortable silence falls between them before Michael reveals Paul’s plan.

“I’ll help,” Tilly immediately volunteers. “I can totally access the servers – Paul’s got enough on his plate, trying to be a whole crew compliment all at once.”

“He said I should got spend time with Phillip and Chris,” Michael admits.

“You should!” Tilly bats her arm playfully.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Michael rumbles in amusement, “but I think I must, if you’re so enthusiastic about this.”

Tilly winks. “I’m only pushing because Saru and the bridge crew this Gamma shift agreed to babysit Philly. You seem to have forgotten – or maybe not forgotten, just not _remembered –_ that you and Chris arranged for some quiet time. Sex and birthday party arrangements at the start of Delta shift.”

“I did not,” Michael denies, even as she realises it to be true. She can starkly remember Chris murmuring dirty things into her ear, talking about how they’ll make Phillip another sibling before hanging some streamers around a table in the mess, for posterity. “ _Oh,_ ” she mumbles, face going hot.

Her friend, who’s been watching her carefully, smirks somewhat. “It’s like seeing you fall in love all over again. Please tell me you’ve banged at least _once_ since you realised this wasn’t real.”

“No, we haven’t- I’ve not-”

“Michael,” Tilly takes her hand, squeezing. “Calm down. Nova, it really is like interacting with a younger you. This time travel thing rocks. Here’s my advice: ask him to act out this time’s normality. Get him doing stuff everyone on the _Discovery_ sees each day, like that sappy kiss before one of you gets lunch and the wink he sends you at the start of every shift when he calls you Commander for the first time. Ease into it – and when you get back to the past, jump his bones and call this trip a wake-up call.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Michael huffs, but it’s a solid idea. Michael likes this dream – she likes this reality.

She likes _Chris._

“I…I suppose it would be weird for us to just keep Phillip locked up in our rooms with us for three days straight.”

“Oh, totally, you’d attract some serious attention like that. Phillip’s our prized mascot,” Tilly says, deadly serious. Michael flashes her a smile and they link hands, giving each other feelings of encouragement and comradery through tight squeezes.

“I’d better go. Phillip’s probably missing me,” Michael says, getting a short nod.

“Awesome. _I_ will return to the land of dreams. Alpha-Gamma shift is _awful_ , I’d rather work to in a row rather than odd shifts.”

Michael chuckles before standing to leave. “Thank-you, Tilly.”

“Anything to help, always,” Tilly promises, smiling. “I’ll go down to help Paul later. Now, go get yourself a sexy admiral!”

“Captain,” Michael corrects to a roll of Tilly’s eyes before finally departing, a new vigour infused through her. _I want this,_ she thinks steadily, firmly. _I want this timeline – this kind of life. I want stability and it’s not like- it’s not like Chris wouldn’t agree, right? He’s like me, he remembers all of this. He knows we could be happy together._

Somehow, though, Paul’s words slither through her mind, like the snake in the garden.

_You might remember flashes. You might remember everything. You might remember nothing._

Her steps falter.

_What if I don’t remember? What if Paul is the only one who remembers the dream? But no – the fact that we’re awake, now, shouldn’t it prove we’d remember?_

Uncertainty rules her once more, by the time she re-enters her apartments. Chris is in the living area watching Phillip’s favourite holo, their son on his lap playing with a toy model of the U.S.S. _Yorktown,_ his Aunty One’s ship out in the black.

“Hey,” Chris greets her with a smile and Michael returns it, letting herself once more sink into that strange, older version of herself as she pads over, discarding her shoes and moving to curl up on his other side. Phillip climbs into her lap immediately. “It’s funny,” Chris says, “but I can’t remember – who did we name him after? Philippa Georgiou or Phillip Boyce?”

“Considering the spelling, the latter,” Michael says, playing with his hair. _Phillip Burnham-Pike._ “No middle names.”

“Not in your family,” Chris muses and it occurs to Michael that Chris _knows_ her, in this dream. He knows her family and her customs – her history and _her_ , _Michael_. That she knows him just as well is…indescribable.

“We need to be able to act normally in front of others,” Michael tells him. “The Alpha crew have already signed on to babysitting this afternoon.”

“The ship is doing milk-runs. It’s completely safe,” Chris says, neither sounding like he agrees or disagrees. He’s frustratingly neutral. Only the twinkle in his eye tells him that he’s thinking – and thinking _hard._

“We need to be able to act normally,” she repeats and he’s fast – leaning over the sofa and pressing his lips to hers. Michael reciprocates immediately, their tongues dancing and their eyes closing, before he abruptly pulls away.

“How’s that for normal?” Chris asks, before his expression blanks and he deliberately turns away from her. Michael stares at him in horror, wondering what had gone wrong.

“Christopher?” she whispers.

“I’m your captain,” he says, full of self-loathing. “I’m not Christopher – I’m your _captain._ ”

Then, he stands and walks the length of the room, disappearing into the bathroom.

**Author's Note:**

> [ come say hi on tumblr ](https://wearethewitches.tumblr.com/ask)


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